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It was a moment of grim necessity and the tiny weapon gave him the satisfaction of knowing that he was not entirely helpless against the javelins. It would shoot as far as the stockade, and it might topple a man over if he hit him just right. Anyway, it would make a noise. A noise! The grin that had come into his face died out suddenly as he looked at Celie.
She held out her hands until they nearly touched his breast. "Philip Raine Amerika!" she cried. Then, pressing her hands to her own breast, she added eagerly: "Celie Armin Danmark!" "Denmark!" exclaimed Philip. "Is that it, little girl? You're from Denmark? Denmark!" She nodded. "Kobenhavn Danmark!" "Copenhagen, Denmark," he translated for himself.
"Did she wear them when she went down the stairs last night?" he insisted. "I think she wore them," she said doubtfully. "Ye-es yes," and the words came now firm and clear. "I remember well. Mlle. Celie had taken them off before her bath, and they lay on the dressing-table. She put them into her ears while I dressed her hair and arranged the bow of ribbon in it."
A great deal of that night's storm passed over his head unheard after that. It was late when he went to bed. He crowded Bram's long box-stove with wood before he extinguished the last candle. And for an hour after that he lay awake, thinking of Celie and of the great happiness that had come into his life all in one day. During that hour he made the plans of a lifetime.
Celie's room. For she admitted that it was her suggestion that she should look through mademoiselle's wardrobe. For what reason does she choose the girl's room, except that if the thing were discovered that would be the natural place for it? It is, then, something belonging to Mlle. Celie. There was a second condition we laid down. It was something Vauquier had not been able to hide before.
Always she was being deceived and imposed upon. Never she learnt prudence. But no one so quickly made her way to madame's heart as Mlle. Celie. Mademoiselle must live with her. Mademoiselle must be dressed by the first modistes. Mademoiselle must have lace petticoats and the softest linen, long white gloves, and pretty ribbons for her hair, and hats from Caroline Reboux at twelve hundred francs.
Something went up into his throat as she stood there looking at him like that. He had never seen any one quite so beautiful. He dropped his club, and held out his hand. "Let's shake, Celie," he said. "I'm mighty glad you understand we're pals." Unhesitatingly she gave him her hand, and in spite of the fact that death lurked outside they smiled into each other's eyes.
Two or three shots from the revolver and Philip's appearance in the corral would shake their confidence. It would at least warn them that Celie was not alone, and that her protector was armed. For that reason Philip thanked the Lord that a "stocking" gun had a bark like the explosion of a toy cannon even if its bite was like that of an insect. Cautiously he took another look at Bram's wolves.
Besnard looked at the name stamped in gold letters upon the lining of the shoes. "I will have inquiries made," he said. Hanaud nodded, took a measure from his pocket and measured the ground between the window and the first footstep, and between the first footstep and the other two. "How tall is Mlle. Celie?" he asked, and he addressed the question to Wethermill.
And even as she spoke Mme. Dauvray's voice rang shrill and irritable up the stairs. "Celie! Celie!" "Quick, Helene," said Celia. For she herself was now anxious to have the seance over and done with. But Helene did not hurry. The more irritable Mme. Dauvray became, the more impatient with Mlle. Celie, the less would Mlle. Celie dare to refuse the tests Adele wished to impose upon her.
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